


in which Cousin Curdle’s wedding is the least exciting part of this trip to the US

by thefriendyouleftinthehallway



Series: unrelated oneshots in which Q is a freak [1]
Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), Addams Family - All Media Types, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Addams Family References, Attempt at Humor, Gen, Humour, Q is an Addams, Q's Name, anyone who be coming in having only seen the movie, based on 1964 series canon so, it's dorian because hades was too over-the-top, james bond is in a perpetual state of confusion, rated T for a few references to fifty shades, sorry tag people, they're literally so nice, whatever, ya'll don't get how kind and friendly the addams family are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 13:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefriendyouleftinthehallway/pseuds/thefriendyouleftinthehallway
Summary: Dorian Addams is the eldest child of Morticia and Gomez Addams by about 10 years. He’s the only one to have left home. He also goes by ‘Q’.---Basically, a silly fic where Bond volunteers to be Q’s bodyguard on an overseas trip Q insists on taking for “family reasons” (MI6 is being paranoid about the Quartermaster’s security because of a recent abduction scare), but he soon discovers that Q’s family, the Addamses, are… well… really fucking weird.
Relationships: James Bond & Q
Series: unrelated oneshots in which Q is a freak [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542313
Comments: 18
Kudos: 224





	in which Cousin Curdle’s wedding is the least exciting part of this trip to the US

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeaganTheAmazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaganTheAmazing/gifts).

> Just to make a few things work, let’s suppose that the Addams family is actually English and moved to America when he was a kid or something. Because outsiders don’t interact with Q he didn’t get American influences for his accent and adopted his family’s English one. I know the Addams don’t have English accents but I feel like Q’s accent is more important to the story than theirs, right?

It had been a fairly standard day. 007 was in Q Branch getting talked through his equipment by the Quartermaster. 

“As this mission requires a certain degree of stealth,” Q explained, “I’ve taken the liberty of fitting this gun with a non-obtrusive silencer.” Q’s face took on a fond smile all of the sudden, though with a hint of sly amusement. “Just like Cousin Screech.” 

Bond spent far too long wondering what the hell that meant. What was a Cousin Screech? A relative? A nickname?  _ What  _ was ‘just like’ Cousin Screech? The non-obtrusive quality? The silence? That didn’t sound like anybody named  _ Cousin Screech _ . Unless Screech was the one  _ to be fitted  _ with a non-obtrusive silencer. What did  _ that _ mean? 

007 blinked as Q continued explaining equipment. 

\---

The Quartermaster was kidnapped. The team who retrieved him would note, later, that peculiarly, Q had seemed to have been enjoying the experience, and seemed rather reluctant to go. And it was Bond, who snatched every opportunity he could to get to know Q, who volunteered to take the man home afterwards. 

It was Bond whom Q invited inside. For a London flat, Bond noticed as soon as he walked through the door into the entrance hall (a grand term for a modest flat, though still applicable) that it was somewhat gothic. There was a haunting ornateness to the grey home. 

“Interesting place, Q,” Bond said. 

“Oh, yes,” Q agreed. “I like it. It’s so nice and gloomy.” 

“That it is,” Bond agreed with a touch of amusement. 

After a moment, Q spoke. “Would you like some tea?”

“I was tasked with delivering you home,” Bond said with a quick smile. “I wouldn’t like to overstay my welcome.”

“Well that’s nonsense,” Q said. “I invited you inside, didn’t I? You’re not overstaying anything. Come, the sitting room’s this way.”

He didn’t leave much room for Bond to argue. 

The agent followed Q through a door and into a room with black and white floral wallpaper, and abruptly, Bond noticed that on the wall was mounted what appeared to be a human leg in the mouth of a swordfish, expertly taxidermied. 

“Interesting decor,” Bond noted uneasily. 

“Ah yes, I see you’re admiring Cousin Squint,” Q said cheerily. “Him and his brother Farouk had so much in common.” 

“Did they?” Bond asked, concerned. 

“Oh yes,” Q confirmed. “Both met the same fate in battle with large fish. Both liked to dive for eels.”

Bond laughed awkwardly, slightly uneasy. 

“Now, I believe I offered you some tea?” Q mentioned, oblivious to Bond’s worry. 

“That would be lovely,” Bond said tensely. 

As Q wandered off to the kitchen, 007 felt somewhat alarmed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen freakish things, because he definitely had. It was more that he hadn’t expected Q to be so… eccentric? Bizarre? Peculiar? 

Q came walking back into the room with two teacups, both of which seemed to be smoking heavily as if the contents were dry ice. He passed one to Bond, who stared down at it and blinked. 

“Tea,” Q said, taking a seat and sipping from his own cup. 

“What… kind?” Bond asked. 

“Just an Earl Grey,” Q answered. 

“Right,” Bond said, tentatively moving the cup towards his lips. “Of course.” 

The white vapour didn’t smell toxic, in fact, it smelt simply of tea. He raised the teacup to his lips and took a small sip, surprised when the tea was… well, tea. 

“How is it?” Q asked, looking almost endearingly expectant. 

“Lovely, thank you,” Bond answered with a small smile. 

This wasn’t his most unusual encounter with the young boffin by a longshot. 

\---

“No, absolutely not,” M stated firmly. 

“I can’t miss this wedding, M. Respectfully, I need to go.” Q stood with his hands on his hips and his head held high, eyes locked firmly with his superior’s. 

“Quartermaster,” M snapped. “It’s a family wedding. Surely it’s not as important as all that.”

“Family is extremely important to me,” Q said coolly in a deadly tone, eyes narrowing. 

“With the recent abduction scare, we cannot risk allowing you to travel internationally,” M pressed. 

“So send me off with a bodyguard,” Q challenged. 

There was a tense pause, ringing silence in the room. 

“That might be… passable,” M said. “I’ll see who’s available.” 

\---

It wasn’t long before Q was returning to M’s office. 

“You’re sending 007,” Q said. “Why?”

“Problem?” M asked. 

“No,” Q said. “But he’s a specialised Double-0. It seems… below his pay grade.”

“He offered,” M clarified. 

A brief pause. “Did he? Alright.”

\---

Bond had expected Q to panic on the flight. Q didn’t. While he seemed open to the idea that they might die, he didn’t seem thoroughly concerned by that thought. Indeed, he seemed quite calm the whole way to the US. 

“Your family is American?” Bond queried. 

“They moved over when I was 9,” Q clarified. 

“Right…” a pause. “You’re not afraid of flying?” 

“No,” Q said. 

“Moneypenny said you were.”

“She was teasing. I had a family emergency,” Q explained. 

“Have a lot of those, do you?” Bond asked. 

“Yes,” Q said without hesitation. 

\---

It was a big house on a big block. Bigger than Bond had expected. He couldn’t help being amused, however, by the idea that Q was a little rich boy with a penchant for computers and generational wealth. 

As they approached the gate, small and cast iron, it swung open with a theatrical creak, all on its own. Bond couldn’t see any motion detectors, nor could he see any conceivable mechanical mechanism to cause such a thing to happen, but as it was the only logical explanation, he was forced to assume that it was nothing more than a marvel of technology. He ignored the way the air here made the back of his neck prickle. 

Q seemed utterly unsurprised by the actions of the gate, and marched merrily up to the front door. When he pulled the bell, it came out almost a metre before it pulled itself back into the wall with great strength. Bond observed that Q seemed to know the perfect time to let go of the bell to avoid getting slammed into the wall. The sound of the bell was deep and peculiar. It was reminiscent of a foghorn. 

The person who answered the door was a tall, looming man decked out like a butler whose expression made Bond wonder if he (the butler) was having a stroke. His voice was as deep at the doorbell as he greeted them with a slow inquiry: “You rang?” 

“Lurch!” Q said. “Could you tell my parents I’ve arrived.”

“Yes, young Addams,” the butler groaned, and disappeared inside the door. 

“Come on then,” Q prompted, and led Bond into the living room, leaving their luggage on the porch. 

The sheer eccentricity of the decorations were too many and too intense to possibly attempt to process all at once. He did, however, notice a piece mounted to the wall that reminded him greatly of something he’d seen before. 

“Isn’t that your Cousin Squint?” Bond asked, pointing to it. 

“Oh, no. That’s his brother. I mentioned him, remember?” Q said distractedly. 

The Quartermaster seemed to be distracted taking in the sight of something he hadn’t seen in a while. He had a look of great nostalgia as he ran his fingers gently over a taxidermied two-headed tortoise while gazing around, eyes falling on different objects around the room, including a stuffed bear and a small noose hanging from the ceiling. 

Suddenly, a loud explosion sounded and the building shook. Bond moved to pull out his gun, but he stopped when Q addressed him. 

“No need for concern,” Q said. “Uncle Fester’s playing with his dynamite again.” 

“ _ What _ ?” Bond asked, but Q was unable to say any more on the topic, because he was distracted by a girl of 15 or 16 who came running into the room to hide behind him, closely pursued by a boy who might have been about 10, who was chasing her with what appeared to be a real mace. 

“Dorian, get outta the way!” The American-accented boy with the mace yelled, and Dorian stepped away from the girl, allowing the chase to continue. The girl laughed delightedly as the boy swung the mace at her and missed by a couple of inches. 

“What was that?” Bond asked, alarmed. 

“Oh, that was my little brother Pugsley. And sister, Wednesday,” Q explained. 

“Do they regularly chase each other with deadly weapons?” Bond asked. 

“Oh yes,” Q answered. “There’s nothing like a game of tag-you’re-dead on a summer evening.” 

Bond shut his mouth and didn’t respond. 

That was when a man walked in. Dark hair and a moustache, he walked directly up to Q with a grin on his face and a mildly deranged look in his eyes. “Dorian my boy,” he said, clapping Q on the shoulder jovially. “Who’s your friend?”

“Colleague,” Q corrected. 

“Bond,” Bond said. “James Bond.” He extended a hand. 

“Delighted to meet you, Bond, James Bond,” the man said, taking Bond’s hand with an enthusiastic shake. “I’m Gomez Addams. You’ve met my son Dorian.” He gestured to Q. 

“Yes…” Bond confirmed. “We’ve met.”

There was a bloodcurdling scream from somewhere else in the house, and Bond’s eyes widened as he turned around. The two children from earlier, Pugsley and Wednesday, marched in, Wednesday now holding the mace and Pugsley looking defeated. 

“These are my other two,” Gomez said, and the children went to stand beside him. 

“Dorian, how have things been in London?” Gomez asked. 

“They’ve been good, father,” Q answered. 

Gomez pulled a thin cigar out of his pocket, and Bond noticed in confusion that it appeared to have already been lit. He offered it to Q, who shook his head. Instead, Gomez passed it to the young boy Pugsley, who seemed happy to smoke it quietly. 

Conversation run dry, Bond attempted to avoid both his own confusion and concern, and the inevitable awkwardness of standing in silence with Q’s family, by starting up some small talk. 

“Interesting place you’ve got here,” Bond mentioned. 

“I like it,” Wednesday piped up, look of pure innocence in her small smile, with her hands clasped behind her back. “It’s so nice and gloomy.”

Bond found that in the midst of his own confusion, he was amused by the girl’s comment. “You know,” he said, “your brother said the exact same thing about his own house.”

“What can I say?” Gomez inserted himself into the conversation merrily. “Home deco runs in the family.” The man placed a proud hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Dorian, I presume you’re here for the funeral?”

“Wedding,” Q corrected. 

“Ah yes,” Gomez said. “Same difference.” 

There was another brief period of quiet. 

“Where are my manners?” Gomez said suddenly, and reached for the noose hanging from the ceiling. He gave it a sharp tug, and the ringing of a bell shook the entire house as if they’d been caught in an earthquake. Bond’s eyes widened in alarm for a split second. 

Lurch, the butler, appeared behind Bond, startling him abruptly. “Lurch,” Gomez addressed. “Fetch our guest ‘the good chair’.” 

Moments later, Bond found himself falling through an ancient chair with the seat missing. He had barely regained his composure when a stunning woman shuffled into the room in a long, tight dress, skirt touching the floor in a design reminiscent of splayed octopus tentacles. 

With some difficulty, he pulled himself out of the chair. Q watched in indifference as Bond obviously began to charm the woman. Gomez interjected, quickly though not possessively, “This is my wife, Morticia.” 

“Enchanted,” Bond said with a smirk, kissing Morticia’s hand lightly. 

Q seemed to have noticed what was happening, and rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat, and the attention in the room shifted to him. “Mother,” Q began. “How do you say ‘my dear’ in French?” 

“Mon Cher?” Morticia responded, and immediately Gomez sprung to action. 

“Tish,” he said. “You know I love it when you speak French.”

Immediately, Bond was pushed aside as Gomez grabbed his wife by the hand and began to press dozens of kisses up her arm, working his way to her mouth. Bond shook his head as if to clear it, somewhat bamboozled. 

“007,” Q said. “Our rooms are upstairs. Lurch will get the bags.” The younger man began leading Bond up the stairs, leaving the somewhat amorous couple that brought Q into the world behind them. 

“Your family is… affectionate,” Bond noted. 

“Yes,” Q agreed. “And my mother is a no-go zone. Gomez is a good-natured man, but I can’t promise Fester won’t get out his elephant gun when his niece's honour is on the line. And in any case, she’s only got eyes for her husband.” 

“I noticed,” Bond huffed. 

“Did you now,” Q laughed. 

“Your accent is different to your siblings,” Bond said suddenly. 

“They were born after the move,” Q told Bond. 

“Really?” Bond asked. “I wouldn’t have thought there was more than a couple years difference between you and the girl.”

“I will tell Grandmama to poison the salamander stew,” Q threatened. 

“Wouldn’t that just kill everybody?” Bond said. 

“No,” Q answered. “Only the mere mortals in attendance.” 

Bond rolled his eyes. Q didn’t laugh. 

A stout bald man rounded the corner as they walked through dark and off-angle corridors towards their destinations. This man’s eyes met Q’s, and they smiled, approaching one another, and struck up a typical haven’t-seen-you-in-a-while conversation. 

Bond noticed, with a jolt, that the man was holding a lit stick of dynamite. As the fuse burned down, Bond persistently tried to interject while the bald man and Q made simple conversation as the explosive got closer and closer to doing what it was born to do. 

Finally Q and the bald man parted ways, and the explosion happened, even could be seen slightly, a few moments after he rounded a corner and went out of sight. 

“That was Uncle Fester, Granny Frump's brother,” Q said. “110 watts, you know.”

“Is he alright?” Bond asked, looking to where the explosion occurred. “Wait, 110 watts?”

“Don’t worry,” Q said. “An Addams is hard to kill. And he plays with explosives all the time.” He didn’t address the confusion over the power of Uncle Fester’s charge. 

“Peculiar names,” Bond said. 

“What?” Q asked, distracted, pushing open a door. 

“Your family gives out peculiar names.”

“I never noticed,” Q admitted. “Here we are.” He gestured to two doors next to each other. “You’re on the left, I’m on the right. No need to change for dinner, we can eat as we are.” 

“Then why did we come here?” Bond asked. 

“So you’d know how to find it,” Q answered. 

Bond shook his head. “What are we going to do now, then?”

“We could always pass the time in the playroom,” Q said. 

Despite the shock that had been thrown at the man all day, an adaptable Bond snorted with laughter. “Are you about to introduce me to the world of sadomasochism?”

“What on earth are you on about, Bond?” Q asked, wrinkling his nose. 

Bond laughed softly. “Lead on, then.” 

Q led the man down a set of stairs and into a basement room, filled with peculiar torture devices. A pillory, bed of nails and an iron maiden among them. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to attempt to convince me to be the subject of your sadistic practices?” Bond asked incredulously. 

“Very sure,” Q said. 

“What is this?” Bond asked. 

“I told you, Bond,” Q answered. “The family playroom.”

The iron maiden creaked open abruptly, and an old woman with a tangle of white hair and tatty black robes stepped out, looking quite like a witch and smiling, walking up to Q. “Dorian,” she said fondly, and then her expression turned vexed. “You have been feeding yourself, haven’t you?” she asked, as if to accuse him of not doing so, and to threaten that he should remember to do so in the future. 

Bond wondered just how intimidating this woman would be with a wooden spoon in hand. He wouldn’t cross her. 

It wasn’t long before Grandmama left to cook dinner.

“Your family is unthinkably odd,” Bond pointed out.

“Thank you,” Q said, beaming like he’d been complimented. 

“Really. It’s concerning.”

“Thank you,” Q said again. Apparently he wasn’t quite aware of how drastically different his own situation was to everybody else’s. Bond wondered if magic was real, and there was some kind of spell on this whole bloodline. 

“May I strap you in?” Q asked abruptly. 

With a sigh, Bond answered: “Why not.”

\---

After quite some time of silence, Bond spoke. “You never quite told me what we’re doing here. Neither did M.”

“It’s a wedding. Cousin Curdle.” 

“We didn’t meet him today,” Bond recalled.

“No,” Q confirmed. “He doesn’t live here. But it’s the old Addams house. We host all the big events. The wedding’s tomorrow.”

The house shook again with the sound of a giant bell. 

“The butler’s call?” Bond asked.

“No, that’s slightly quieter. That was the dinner call.”

By the time Bond had managed to pull himself free of the pillory (thankfully he was not chained to it) Q had miraculously escaped from the rack without assistance, which startled Bond, though he didn’t mention it. 

The family was already assembled in the dining room by the time of their arrival, and Q and Bond took their place across from each other amongst Fester, Grandmama, Pugsley, Wednesday and at either end of the rectangular table, Gomez and Morticia. 

When Bond ate the food, a green sludge-looking substance with small things that looked almost like black pearls mixed through it, he found it was alright, but he wasn’t particularly fond of the crunchy spheres.

“I’ll take the lizard eyes if you want,” Q offered, and Bond wordlessly passed his plate over, allowing Q to sift them from his plate. 

“Pass the cyanide, would you?” Q asked about halfway through the meal. 

“Certainly,” Bond said, and handed Q a shaker, before pausing. “Cyanide?”

“Adds a bit of a kick,” Q said, sprinkling it on his food.

“Adds a bit of a… how are none of you dead?” Bond asked.

“Addams blood,” Q answered.

Bond wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, or what was in the dessert, but he didn’t ask questions. 

\---

After dinner, Bond escaped for a while to his room, where he could attempt to digest the information he had been presented with throughout the day. It wasn’t long, however, before he was drawn out again by a knock at his door. He opened it to find Q, who dragged him down to the living room. 

Mr and Mrs Addams were fencing enthusiastically, while the butler played a harpsichord with a tune that was simultaneously morose and lively. There was a cackling coming from the basement that everyone seemed to ignore, and the children, Grandmama and Fester seemed to have already retired for the night, nowhere to be seen. 

“Father,” Q began as he led Bond into the room. Bond suddenly felt incredibly weary and Q’s tone; the tone that was often used by children who were asking their parents for a treat. 

“Aye, Dorian?” Gomez asked with a grin, barely breaking his concentration on the intense match he was holding with his wife. 

“Canweplaytrainwreck?” Q babbled quickly. 

“Of course, son,” the man confirmed. “Do you need help setting up?” 

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” Q answered. 

Morticia had stopped wielding the foil long enough for Gomez to fix his attention briefly on their son, but as soon as the discussion was over, they were back to the fight. 

The phone began to ring, and they broke off, panting. Bond stared openly when a hand with no visible origin emerged from a small box on the table and handed the phone to Morticia, but he didn’t have long to gape before Q was pulling him into a little room . 

In the centre of the room was a table, sat on top was a train set. 

Q looked excited, which inspired a degree of concern for his personal safety from Bond. 

As Q walked over and flicked a few switches on a control board, Bond felt as if there was something not quite right about the situation. “Come over,” Q requested like a cheerful child, beckoning Bond. 

Bond fell into place at Q’s side, and Q took Bond’s hand and placed it on a little button, putting his hands over Bond’s. 

Bond suddenly noticed that the trains were on a collision course. Ah. That’s what Q had meant by ‘train wreck’ earlier. 

Bond felt Q pressing his hands down on the button, and suddenly the tracks exploded, just as the trains collided. 

Bond was finding this whole experience incredibly stressful. 

\---

In the end, the wedding was the least notable event of the entire trip, and the plane ride back was even more dull in comparison. 

The upside of the trip, despite all its stressful oddness, was the simple fact that Bond now knew how to please Q; with something as simple as tasteful morbidness. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> DO PEOPLE WHO HAVE ONLY SEEN THE 90s MOVIE KNOW ABOUT THE PLAYROOM? Basically in the 60s series there was a room somewhere in the house full of medieval torture devices to be used casually and recreationally by the family members. It was chill, and while it might seem kinky, it wasn't. It was just… family fun. 
> 
> But most people have only seen the 90s movies so they might not know about the playroom. Anyways, there you go. The playroom explained. Have fun, kidlets. 
> 
> PLEASE INFORM ME IF YOU SEE ANY ERRORS SO I CAN FIX THEM. COMMENT AND KUDOS :)


End file.
